


The Light Reflects The Chain On Your Neck

by IAmWhelmed



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics), Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), First Time, Getting Together, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Making Love, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Mutual Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Romance, True Love, Until It Is Not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26597464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmWhelmed/pseuds/IAmWhelmed
Summary: "Morning, his placeBurnt toast, SundayYou keep his shirt, he keeps his wordAnd for once, you let goOf your fears and your ghostsOne step, not much, but it said enough" -- You Are In Love by Taylor SwiftThey've been friends for a long time, dancing around the edge of something more for almost as long. Damian's not sure the way they seek each other as they sleep means anything to Jon-- or at least, the way it means something to him. Jon is his best friend, after all, and he'd be willing to take that and run with it.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 11
Kudos: 131





	The Light Reflects The Chain On Your Neck

Their noses were brushing, and he could tell even in the low light of the early morning sun peeking through the drawn curtains that Jon was smiling. Their lips brushed, and Jon’s hand found his own in the sheets and slipped his fingers through the creases in his own, pressing lightly down and sighing. “Hi, D.”

“Hi, Buddy…”

He couldn’t help it, he was smiling, too. Their legs brushed in their tangled mess, skin and soft cotton and the warm sheets, Jon’s body against his own, one arm thrown over his waist, open palm on his back, pulling him closer. The red-eyed sound of sizzling had once-upon-a-time been the best sound in the world, but he was finding that every morning in Superboy’s bed made him a little fonder of the sound of him sighing against his lips. Their foreheads pressed together, and Jon rubbed his nose back and forth in a series of non-descript kisses. He wanted to, so badly-- to kiss him. Was that too far? Was that stepping over the border of the odd thing they’d become? Where they’d find each other as they slept, where he must have reached for Jon when he could feel his body near, where Jon took him in open arms every night without question, even in the deepest depths of sleep. Jon’s open palm ran lines up and down his back, comforting caresses and strokes, until eventually his hand rested at his lower back, pulled him closer.

Damian hid his gasp with the more comfortable, less obvious sigh. Was this what being his lover would be like, if he were brave enough to ask? He looked up, looked into Jon’s lazy blue eyes, his soft, easy smile, laced with a hint of mischief, like he was waiting for Damian to get embarrassed, to get shy and angry… “grumpy”, as he called the mood. But he was too caught up in the way Jon’s fingers traced languid circles just above his tailbone, like he was allowed to touch him there, like this was normal for them. His own hands were working against him, open and set gently at Jon’s chest, one on his heart, the other under Jon’s free hand as his thumb traced the center of his bone. Jon smiled at him, eyes filled with the drowsy early-morning greetings, but they were set on him, and his eyes, and then all over his face, fluttering like kisses he wished were real. Jon’s lips parted, and he wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss him so badly. He wondered if Jon noticed the way he glanced at them.

Their eyes found each other again, and Jon blinked, like a pause, then took a small breath. “You’re my best friend.”

And he believed it. Jon was his. And he opened his mouth to say as much, to agree, to brush all of this under the rug and let these simple mornings in his bed slip away where they’d stay in his memory and his heart, where those words could never touch him the way Jon was holding him right then-- but he didn’t get a chance to. Jon sweeped in, kissed him with parted lips and a small sigh, one hand on Jon’s heart, the other sliding up until he could run his fingers through his wild hair. Their lips parted with a hot puff of air, then came together again, the ghost of their gasps gracing each kiss with a pant. He leaned up further, met Jon’s parted, panting lips with two against his bottom lip and a gentle pull until Jon was leaning down, until he was cupping his jaw in his open palm and soaking him up with every kiss. He pressed forward, Damian moved to lay on his back, and Jon leaned over him, chest baring down on his own, solid, and warm, and he could feel their hearts beating in time together if he focused. He let his hand graze the build of his chest, let it feel his muscle under his thin shirt until he was cupping the crook of his neck. Jon tilted his head, kissed him again, and again, breathing against his lips every time they came even a fraction apart. He hardly gave him the time, dove after him with the tilt of his head, the height of his back leaning up to follow him. Their lips were wet, from the heat of their mingled breath, from their sloppy, slow, languid kisses, and his breath stuttered as he laid his head against the pillow and Jon followed him with another kiss. His eyes fluttered shut, and he panted as Jon’s lips trailed down to the tilt of his neck, kissing, wet, sloppy, open-mouthed graces of adoration on sensitive skin. He tilted his chin back.

“ _ Jon… _ ”

He was in love. In love with Jon, helplessly, cruelly smitten like a fool.

Jon sighed against his skin, eyelashes brushing the crease of his chin and the smooth skin underneath, sounded breathless as he said “ _ I love you, D. _ ”

He leaned down, took Jon’s lips in his own with insistence, with the power of the point to be made. Open lips against a mouth that granted entry, once, twice, until he pulled away for just a second, breathless: “ _ And I love you, Jon _ .”

From there, Jon peppered kisses along his jaw, one below his ear, where he gasped, light and tender against his skin and bone until he reached his jaw, until Damian had to tilt his head back to allow him more room. And Jon continued, one hand pushing the hem of his shirt upwards, up and slow until it was bunched under his arms and his chest was bare, and Jon was leaving open-mouthed kisses wherever he felt like it. He pressed his parted lips at the bridge between ribs and kissed, and  _ kissed _ , and Damian’s hand found the back of his head and massaged. He breathed in, breathed out, leaned his head back against the pillow as Jon’s wet lips graced and made a trail. Soft, solid hands palmed at the curve of his hips, kept him in place as Jon’s love marked his skin in glossy sheen. Jon pulled away as his lips came down to the dip of his button, moving back up, up until he was leaning, towering over Damian, one armed propped up against the pillows.

His blue eyes watched him with so much trust, so much love, were so soft and filled with things he’d never imagined feeling for another person, but he could say with no doubt and little restraint that he was filled with the same untameable adoration, the same trust he could see in those eyes. He wasn’t scared, could never be if it was Jon, because they were a team, always,  _ always _ . He cupped Jon’s cheek in one hand, led him down, and Jon followed with no question until Damian led him into another kiss. Jon leaned up over him, took his lips and kissed slowly, chastely, swinging a leg over to lock his hips between his thighs, hands moving down to strip himself of his shirt. Their lips parted as he lifted the piece over his head, and he tried to get an eyeful of his bare chest while he could,  _ because Jon was beautiful, truly, a man of twenty years sculpted like a God to fit perfectly under his wandering hands _ , but Jon was kissing him again before he could ogle him much more.

He wanted to rid himself of his own shirt, feel skin against skin as Jon brushed against him with every kiss. It was sweet, and he couldn’t get enough of it. Jon kissed him like a wave, down and then up, and at that same moment he brushed their hips together. He gasped, while Jon smiled against his lips. Another brush, and Damian grasped blindly at his arms. He moved to get closer, and Jon brushed right where he wanted him to. He swallowed and dipped his head back as Jon graced his hips down and up, hands pressing open-palm on either side of him, open mouth sighing as they came together. “ _ Damian… _ ”

He gathered his breath to keep his voice level as he spoke, because he would never live it down if he stuttered. Behind lidded eyes and a back-tilted head, a set of hips that leaned up to meet Jon’s with every dip, he glared. “What are you wasting time for, Superboy?” Jon’s eyes lit up with wry as his lips quirked up into a grin. He reached up and grasped at Jon’s hips, tugged them down to meet his own with a final rut. “It’s rude to keep me waiting.”

“Then I won’t.” He laughed and bent down to capture Damian’s lips in his own, one kiss, then another, then a third until Damian moved back to see his face, with those big blue eyes and the glazed-over love he didn’t even try to hide. He huffed as Jon exhaled into his skin, breaths mingling in the small distance, small enough to kiss, thick enough to stay still. Damian’s hand trailed down to the tie of Jon’s sweatpants, tugged at the bow until it came undone, like a gift just for him. Jon reached over to the nightstand, plucked a small square from the drawer and closed it.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Get a lot of visitors in your bed?”

Jon’s nose wrinkled, a small pout at his lips as he tore the foil apart. “D…”

He grinned. “ _ Hmmm? _ ”

“You know it was a gag gift from Kon.”

He did, but the opportunity to tease him was so very there. “Mmm, a useful one.” He didn’t mind the warning in Jon’s voice, nor the glare in his eye. He licked his lips as Jon took the condom from the wrapper with smooth, long fingers.

He knew he was the only one in Jon’s bed.

He reached down to pull the waistband of his pants down, but Jon’s free hand was on his the moment he started, leaning down to press a light kiss to his cheek, he whispered to him. “ _ No, no, let me… _ ” So he did. He took Jon’s waistband and slipped it down, and down, until he was bare and full before him, and Jon hooked his hemline under his thumb and gave a few tugs until he was naked below him. He watched as Jon slipped the condom on over himself, as he got a full look at his body, at his abs, at the pure, undeniable kryptonian strength that had saved his life more than once, that swept him up in strong arms and held him close no matter how he fought it. His skin was so smooth, so perfect, not a single scar where he had a dozen, but the best was his eyes as he leaned forward and kissed Damian without so much as a whisper.

“ _ I love you… _ ”

He reached up, wrapped his arms around his neck and breathed in as Jon’s hand settled, again, at his lower back, this time lifting him off the sheets. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back and breathed out as Jon slid into him. Jon sighed, pressing in gently, slowly, before he pulled out. He readjusted himself in Jon’s hold, moved so that the tips of his fingers brushed over his tailbone, made a shiver run down his spine as Jon pushed in again. He let his head fall back against the pillow, lips parting as Jon made slow, gentle love to him. He bit his bottom lip and moved in rhythm with him, lifting his hips, settling them down and sinking over Jon as he consumed him. Jon’s other hand steadied them both, pressed against the bed as they moved in sync, propped him up above Damian’s smooth, fluid form.

Jon pushed into him and glided into one spot that made him see stars, and he arched his back into Jon’s hand. “ _ Ah...hah…. _ ”

Jon was panting above him, eyes lidded, hair slick with sweat, hanging into his face. He licked his lips and leaned down, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his chest and grazed the skin with his teeth. Damian hummed then gasped, then sighed, let each wave hit him as Jon swept every part of him, made him rethink what  _ love you to the moon and back  _ meant because surely nobody had ever felt as sworn to those words as he was to the very sun in his bed, in his body. “ _ Mmmm, _ ” One of his hands ran strokes up and down the perfect skin of Jon’s back, the other tangled at the nape of his neck, fingers twirling his hair and tugging lightly every time he hit him in just the right place. Jon raised him up with inhuman strength, glided into him at a different angle that made those stars light up, made his stomach jolt. “ _ Mmmm-- ah! _ ” He breathed through his nose, hard, tried to keep himself in line. Jon leaned up and stole another languid kiss, panting against his lips, heart pounding against his chest.

He opened his eyes, met Jon’s as they panted together, as Jon pressed his forehead to his and whispered “ _ I love you so much.” _

He cupped Jon’s face in his hands, pressed another kiss to his lips, brushed his nose against his and swallowed, but not soon enough to hide the high-pitched whine as Jon spread him wide and filled him to the base, smooth, easy, so, so gentle. “ _ I love you, too, _ ” he whispered back, but there were tears gathering in his eyes. “ _ I love you _ .”

Jon kissed the corner of his eye as one tear spilled over, looked at the brink of tears himself as his fingers tangled in his hair and made soft curls while they kissed. Jon nuzzled under his chin, sped up the pace with a quicker snap of his hips. “ _ Damian… _ ”

“ _ I’m with you, _ ” he whispered it, but he knew Jon heard every foolish, lovestruck word. “ _ I’m always, always with you _ .”

In the next moment Jon had stolen another kiss, harder, more passionate, filled with love he knew there were no words to convey.

They came together, Jon surrounded by every piece of Damian he could never show, Damian filled with the unconditional love of his best friend, his soulmate. Jon collapsed in his arms, digging his face into the crook of his neck, one thumb wiping away the tears on Damian’s cheeks that had gotten away from him. He could feel the smug grin from where Jon breathed against his skin.

“Jon…” He snorted, and Jon chuckled.

“Yeah, D?”

“You’re my best friend, too.”

Jon’s fingers tapped lightly at his bare chest, tracing a scar over his heart, one he didn’t even notice anymore. “ _ I know… _ ”

**Author's Note:**

> This is far from perfect and I may or may not go back and actually edit it to make sense later, but I have a shiiit ton of work to do today and I wanted to post this and clear the damn tab lmao so if it doesn't make sense-- don't worry! You're not the only one who thinks that!
> 
> Also thank u @nightwingbb for inspiring me to write despite the boatloads of homework I could have been doing! U the MVP 😂❤️❤️❤️


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